


China Shop

by LadyFogg



Series: Constantine Oneshots & Prompts [14]
Category: Constantine (Comic), Constantine (TV), Hellblazer, Hellblazer & Related Fandoms
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Language, Minor Violence, Shower Sex, Smut, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Stripping, lap dance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 08:47:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9314192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyFogg/pseuds/LadyFogg
Summary: John visits you at work hoping for a little information, and perhaps some special attention.





	

**Author's Note:**

> It’s been a really long time and it feels good to be writing again. This one came to me out of the blue and I ended up writing the whole first draft in like, two hours. So, yay me!
> 
> Fic Song: https://open.spotify.com/track/3QUB1wEnQyJWllbOULLH3Y

 

The air is thick with the scent of smoke, musk, and alcohol. Lights are dim and the slow sensual music sets the mood. Nearly every seat is filled with someone: a demon here, a sorceress there, the occasional vampire or human…

At least, that’s what you can gather from your spot onstage. As you swing your hips and twirl around the pole, you get a better view of the room. A familiar face catches your attention, though you’re too professional to let it throw you off. You don’t remember seeing him arrive, and yet there he is. Really, you shouldn’t be so surprised. 

John Constantine always pops up when you least expect him. 

He leans back in his seat, surveying you with those watchful eyes. A nearly finished cigarette dangles from his lips, which are turned up at the corners, fixing you with his ever present smirk. 

Focusing back on the task at hand, you make your way around the stage, giving each patron their own small show. John’s is the only regular you recognize. Their cash either falls at your feet or is tucked into your g-string, when you get close enough to let them that is. Of course then you have to coyly dance away from those looking to cop a feel. When you get to John, he removes his cigarette briefly to exhale smoke, before slipping it back in. 

You crawl toward him, breasts barely contained by your too small bra. 

John’s smirk widens and you bite your lip, raising your eyebrow questioningly. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a twenty, offering it to you. Really? A twenty? That’s laughable. You give him a pointed look, but then he fans the bill ever so slightly and now you see two more twenties with it. 

Throwing him a wink, you take the cash between your teeth, gently pulling it out of his hand as you sit back on your heels. Gaze firmly fixated on his, you tuck the money into the small pocket in your bra as you carefully slide off the stage. Other patrons hiss and make noises of disappointment at the show’s abrupt end, which you ignore in favor of taking John’s offered hand. 

With a sultry smile and promising hip sway, you lead him through the throngs of people, to the private rooms in the back. He slips past you into the tiny booth and you turn to close the curtain, taking a quick look to make sure no one is watching or following. Only a security guard takes notice, though he doesn’t seem particularly interested. 

Once you draw the curtains, you glance over your shoulder at John. “Wasn’t expecting you tonight, sweets,” you drawl, slowly turning around. He’s closer than you anticipate and you have to stop short so you don’t collide with him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Oh trust me, love. The  _ pleasure  _ is all mine,” John smirks. He removes his cigarette and puts it out in the nearby ashtray. 

As he reaches to touch you, you place a hand on his chest and shove him so he’s sitting down. “Cameras, lovely,” you say, reaching behind you to undo the clasp of your bra. The strip of fabric falls to the floor. “No audio, but plenty of visuals.” 

John gives a nod of understanding, chancing a quick glance around. You see him note where the cameras are before his attention returns to you. “How’ve you been, love?”

“Oh, you know me,” you grin, slowly swaying to the music. “What can I do for you then? You only pay for a private dance when you want something.” 

“As much as I would love for this to be a social visit, sadly I am on a case,” John says, watching every movement. You step in a little closer so he’s forced to crane his neck up to look at you. “Got a few questions I’m hoping you can answer.” 

“Ask away,” you say, straddling his lap, your knees pressing into the soft cushions. You can feel the heat from his skin through the thin cotton of his pants and it’s tantalizing. It conjures all sorts of memories from your past exploits. 

“Looking for a bloke who comes here often,” John says. He lean back to enjoy the sight of your rolling hips. “Little blighter by the name of Anton.” 

“Why? Did he cross you?” you ask. 

John chuckles. “Something like that,” he says. “Had a run in a few years ago and he may know where I can find his former boss. Didn’t properly scare him off last time, so it seems he’s still skulking about.” 

“Well that’s too bad,” you lament, drawing in closer. You nearly press your chest to his, but then his warm hands are slowly trailing up your thighs and you have to knock them away. “No touching, remember? Not here.”

“Sorry, love,” John grins. “Force of habit. It’s so hard not to.” 

It’s your turn to laugh slightly, getting off his lap, only to turn and roll your hips backwards, taunting him. You swear you hear a sharp inhale. “Is it, Johnny?” you tease. “Is it  _ hard _ ?”

“Getting harder by the second. Maybe I can show you later when you get off work,” is his gruff response. 

“Maybe,” you say. “So, what’s this Anton look like?”

“I’ve got a picture on my phone—”

Hearing the rustling of his pants, you turn back around and straddle his lap again. “Don’t take the phone out,” you hiss in a low voice. “Cameras, John. If they know I’m feeding you information, they’ll kill us both.” 

John sighs. “You need to find a new club, love,” he says. 

“Not what we’re discussing,” you remind him, placing your hands on the wall behind his head, effectively trapping his body with yours. “Describe the guy.” 

“Thin, messy hair, bug eyes, twitchy,” John lists. 

“That’s nearly everyone who looks humanoid,” you say. 

“He’s a soul broker,” John says, though he’s become distracted by the sight of your breasts which are currently eye-level. He follows their bounce as if hypnotized. “I suspect he’s on the run from the man downstairs after he broke a contract.” 

Now that does ring a bell. You vaguely recall hearing him talk to some of the other patrons about it, trying to find someone interested in hiring him so he could get back into the First’s good graces. “Oh yeah, I’ve seen him,” you say, leaning down so your forehead brushes John’s. Without warning you briefly grind down on his lap, making him gasp. His hips buck, seeking more friction, but you’re already gone, sitting up straight and raising your arms over your head. “Actually, he should be coming in soon. Want me to lure him outside for you?”

“Could you?” John asks. You see him grip the seat to keep from grabbing you like he so desperately wants. “Really need that information from him.”

“Sure thing,” you purr, spinning quickly so you can brush the front of his black pants with your backside. You glance over your shoulder to watch the expression on his face. His pupils are blown wide and his tongue darts out to wet his dry lips. “It’s going to cost you of course.” 

“I thought that’s what this dance was for,” John teases. 

You chuckle. “Conspiracy to interrogate a customer isn’t included,” you tell him.

“Bollocks. You’re gonna drain me dry, you are.” 

You turn back to face him, this time getting closer than you’ve gotten all night. His breath practically tickles your lips as you lean in. “That’s the plan, Johnny,” you whisper. “Also, wouldn’t be the first time. Come home with me after the job and you’ve got yourself a deal.” 

John’s smirk is back and he wiggles his eyebrows. “Guess that’s a ‘yes’ instead of just a maybe? I’d be a bloody lunatic to say no,” he says. 

“Yes, yes you would,” you agree. “So, I’ll dance for this Anton, ask him to meet me out back, and when he shows up you do your thing. Seems straightforward.” 

“You should know by now, love,” John says. “Nothing I do is ever ‘straight’.” 

Laughing, you slink off his lap and extend your hand to help him to his feet. “Likewise, Johnny,” you say. “Likewise.” 

Luring Anton is way easier than it probably should have been. The scrawny man is practically drooling by the time you whisper in his ear and you swear he’s going to cream himself right then. He doesn’t (you hope) and you saunter away, catching John’s eye from across the room. He throws you a wink and slips out through one of the side doors. 

Once your shift is over, you head backstage to get dressed and count your tips. It takes you a while to gather yourself, so by the time you leave, it’s extremely late. Anton is waiting exactly where you told him to, and you almost feel sorry for the bastard. 

Stalking towards him, you smile. “Hey there, handsome,” you say. 

“Hey,” Anton says excitedly. “So we gonna do this here? I think the alley’s pretty empty. We may want to go around the corner so no one can see. How much do you want?” 

You shove your hands into the pockets of your jacket, cocking your head to the side. “Oh, you poor sap,” you say, shaking your head. “I’m sort of sorry about this.” 

Anton’s eyes widen and he spins around just as John shows himself. “Hello, Anton,” he grins around a fresh cigarette. “Been a long time.” 

Anton turns back to you, anger in his eyes. “You, bitch!” he snaps, and takes a swing.

Without so much as blinking, you dodge it, hands still in your pockets. “John, did you see that?” you say, eyes never leaving Anton’s face. “I think he just tried to assault me.” 

Anton’s anger fades and he suddenly looks terrified, as if he just realizes the mistake he’s made. His eyes dart around the alley, looking for any means of escape and unfortunately finding none. 

“That he did, love,” John says. “Really stupid idea if you ask me. And a surprising move. You must have grown some stones since the last time I saw you. Wouldn’t peg you for someone to try to take a swing, especially at a woman.” 

It’s comical how quickly Anton goes down when you sink your fist into his jaw. It’s even funnier when your knee breaks his nose and he collapses in a heap on the ground. Grabbing him by the hair, you hold him up as John casually strolls forward, sending cigarette ash on the pavement with a flick of his wrist. 

“What do you want from me?” Anton asks, whimpering as blood runs out of his nose. “I already did what you asked. I ate that contract.” 

“That was three years ago, mate,” John says. “Water under the bridge. I do need some information from you though.” 

“I don’t know anything!” Anton immediately denies, shaking his head as much as you’ll let him. Your nails are digging into his scalp and you flex your fingers threatening. He whimpers louder. “I swear I don’t!”

John laughs as he squats down to be face-to-face. “I haven’t even asked any questions, Anton,” he says. “Which leads me to believe you’re  _ already  _ lying to me.” He puts the cigarette back into his mouth. “Where’s Midnite? How did he contact you for a deal?”

“I don’t remember! That was years ago!” Anton babbles. “And I’m sure as hell not in touch with him. Not after you blew my deal! No one will do business with me anymore!”

“Oh boo hoo,” you mock. “Poor soul broker can’t take advantage of desperate people anymore. What a shame.” 

“Says the stripper...” Anton mutters. 

Anger flaring, you kneel down, grabbing his wrist with your free hand and twisting it behind his back. “Don’t you  _ ever  _ compare yourself to me!” you snap. “People know what they’re getting into when they watch me dance. You prey on people who are waiting for a miracle. People who don’t understand just what selling their souls mean. Because of you, they’re ripped away from their lives and sent down to hell.”

“Listen, Anton,” John snaps, grabbing the front of the man’s shirt and forcing him to look at him. “Answer my bloody questions and I won’t have my friend remove your entrails. I’ve seen her do it before. She’s lured many a men to their deaths.” 

“W-What do you mean?”

“It used to be my thing,” you tell him. “Granted, they all deserved it one way or another. It’s amazing what you can do with a melodic voice and swaying hips.” 

“S-She’s a S-Siren?” Anton asks fearfully. 

“Ex-Siren,” you say, with a shrug. “See, Johnny here helped me escape that life. So I owe him pretty big. Especially after we had that amazing weekend together.”

“And a fair few since then.”

“Very true,” you say. You dig your nails harder into Anton’s head. “Although I may not be in that life anymore, every now and then, Anton, I get that  _ urge _ —”

“Alright, alright!” Anton squeaks. “I-I-I really don’t know where Midnite is. No one has seen him in a long time. I tried to reach out hoping to beg for another job but haven’t heard anything. He gave me a burner phone eons ago that I kept just in case. But that’s all I know. I swear!”

“Where’s the phone?” John demands. 

“In my pocket!” Anton exclaims. 

John digs his hands into the pockets of the dirty jacket, drawing out a phone and some more cash. He tucks both into his trench coat and gives Anton a wide grin, letting smoke blow into his face. “Good boy,” he says, patting his cheek. 

You slowly release Anton and just when the soul broker relaxes, you punch him hard enough to knock him out. Getting to your feet, you smile at John. “Got everything you needed?” you ask. 

“And then some,” John comments, patting his pocket where the money is. He stands with a slight groan, dropping his cigarette on the ground and crushing it with his shoe. “Hungry, love? My treat.”

“Save your money. I’ve got food at home,” you say, linking your arm with his as you step over Anton’s unconscious frame. “Let’s go. I’ve got a large apartment and a brand new shower I want to show you.”

“I am all yours, love,” John says, drawing you closer. 

You live quite a ways away from the club, but you don’t mind the drive this time. John can’t seem to stop grinning, regaling you with tales of his recent exploits. There’s that familiar energy in the air, the kind that lets you know you’re about to have an evening of fun. 

John lets out a low whistle when he sees your place. “Just how much are you making at that club?” he asks as you drag him towards the bathroom. 

“Enough,” you say. “Come on. I want to see you naked and covered with soap.”

Chuckling at your enthusiasm, John hangs back for a second, giving your hand a squeeze. “Hold on, love. Let me just call Chas real quick so he knows I’ve got the info.”

“Suit yourself,” you say, letting go of his hand and removing your jacket. It falls to the floor while you kick out of your shoes. “I’ll just start without you then.” 

Clothes are stripped off and forgotten as you start the shower. The hot water feels spectacular and you take a few minutes to just stand under the spray, letting the sweat and smell of that place wash away. John’s right, you should find another club. Maybe one closer to home so you don’t have to drive across town in the dead of night. Enjoying the peace and quiet for a moment, you hum softly to yourself as you wash your hair. Eventually the humming turns into soft singing as you rinse away the suds. 

The door to the bathroom opens and you glance through the glass doors as John’s warped figure makes its way towards you. Smirking to yourself, you’re pleased that your songs still call him, even if he doesn’t realize it. He wastes no time removing his clothes and slipping into the shower. Now that you’re not at work, his hands immediately reach out to slide around you, pulling your back flush against his chest. 

“Bloody hell, you feel marvelous,” he coos in your ear, nuzzling your neck. 

You slide a hand in his hair and turn your face to capture his lips. He tastes of cigarettes per usual, and it takes some getting used to. But his quick tongue stroking yours more than makes up for it, as do his hands as they slide up to cup your breasts. Breaking the kiss, you present your neck to him while passing the bar of soap across yourself. 

He rubs the suds into a rich lather, fingers tweaking and tugging your nipples into hard nubs. You place the soap on the shelf, before covering his hands with your own to help. His mouth has found your neck and he laps away the water, one of his hands dropping between your legs. 

Gasping at the touch, you grind back against him, feeling the weight of his cock pressing into the back of your thigh. Two fingers spread your slit open so a third can teasingly press inside. Instantly your knees buckle and you have to grip the shelf to keep yourself from falling. He fingers you with practiced ease, occasionally pressing down on your clit. Soon, the wetness between your thighs isn't just from the shower. 

“Always so maddening when I can’t touch you proper,” John grunts. 

“That’s the point,” you smirk. Turning to face him, you fling your arms around his neck, pushing until his back is pressed against the wall. “But we’re not at work anymore. You can touch me all you want. You can even fuck me. Which I highly suggest you do right this second.” 

“Don’t want to play a bit first?” John teases. 

“Nope, did that already,” you say. You lift your foot onto the ledge of the tub, pressing your pelvis to his. His cock jumps and brushes your folds, forcing you to bite back a whimper. “We’ll have plenty of time to play later.” 

John kisses you roughly, both hands reaching down to grab your ass. Every nerve is on fire and you're so ready to let it consume you. He grinds himself between your legs vigorously, seeking the friction you so brutally denied him earlier. Suddenly, you find your roles reversed and you’re the one against the wall. 

It's always such a fun game. You love how you both try to wrestle dominance from the other, pushing the other until they submit. Which never takes long, because you both enjoy it way too much.

John grips your thighs and you follow through, lifting your legs to wrap around his waist. He works his cock into you with small, careful thrusts, shifting to make sure he doesn’t slip. 

Gradually you feel him fill you and it’s deliciously torturous. Your hand tangles in his wet hair as you smash your mouth to his. Tongues dancing, your bodies rock together as he starts to thrust. The weight of his body against yours makes your skin tingle, especially when those firm hands grab your hips. He withdraws a bit, only to bury himself all the way. You moan loudly, head thrown back. 

John takes you against the tile, each thrust deep and oh so satisfying. But you know he can’t hold you up for very long, so before he drops you, you lower your legs to stand. The loss of him is sad, but immediately remedied when he spins you around. You bend over slightly, hands resting on the wall as John grips your waist again. He practically slams himself into you, hips making a loud  _ slap.  _ Water is pouring over both of you, making your movements slick and fluid. 

You can’t stop your noises as John fucks you from behind. He’s also grunting, alternating between quick and drawn out thrusts. One moment he’s pounding you with animalistic ferocity, and the next he grinding into you so he’s as deep as he possibly can be. Your hands are slipping on the wet tile, but you don’t want to stop. Especially when two fingers start to furiously rub your clit. 

Your vision starts to blur and you can feel your body tensing as the pleasure continues to build. His free hand slides down the dip of your spine, lifting to give your ass cheek a brief, wet slap. The prickle of pain only adds to the feeling of slick fingers tugging on your nub. Without warning, his thumb circles your pucker and with the tiniest amount of pressure, you tumble into oblivion, eyes closed as you come hard. 

Body locked in place as you ride the waves of pleasure, you’re powerless to do anything other than moan while John continues to take you. It’s nearly a full two minutes before he withdraws suddenly, and you feel the warmth of his relief coat the back of your thighs, immediately washed away by the shower. 

Shaking, you sink onto the floor of tub along with John, both trying to remember how to breathe properly. His kisses are sloppy and open-mouthed, but you accept them regardless, body tingling with the after effects of his talented hands and cock. 

“Mmmm, that was divine,” you purr, throwing your leg over his waist. 

John grins lazily, giving your backside another slap. “Always is, love,” he pants. “Always is.” 


End file.
